


Mate My Hungry Soul

by kyrdwyn



Series: The Colors of Our Souls are Painted on Our Skins [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Religious Content, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, i love my tropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-11 10:33:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2064777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrdwyn/pseuds/kyrdwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His soul mark, the sign that he had, by some divine grace, been granted a soul mate, and they wouldn't be parted until death.  Whether or not the relationship was physical, or just a deep and abiding friendship that went beyond anything one could expect, well, he didn't have a preference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> So, after binge watching The Musketeers and binge reading fic, this bunny hit with a vengeance. No idea exactly how long it will be. Also, canon will be taking a left at Amiens (or whatever France's equivalent of Albuquerque is...) in this fic as it progresses. 
> 
> Alternate Universe where some people are granted soul mates, but they're not easy to find, and sometimes, harder to make work in 1630 France.
> 
> This chapter set during 1.01 "Friends and Enemies"

Athos shifted as he leaned against the wall of the cell in the Chatelet. Condemned to death for crimes he hadn't committed, he was resigned to his fate. He had killed the woman he loved, after a fashion, and this was no more than he would deserve for that act which had haunted him for five years.

His only regret was leaving behind Porthos and Aramis. They would stand by him no matter what. He had no doubts they were out trying to clear his name even now, but Athos suspected it was not to be. Someone wanted him dead, enough to use his name when committing their foul deeds. They wouldn't be easy to find. But he knew his friends - his brothers - would not stop trying.

Sighing, he pushed up the sleeve of his jacket and shirt, looking for the one thing that had given him even a spark of hope these past few years, beyond his friendship with Porthos and Aramis. His soul mark, the sign that he had, by some divine grace, been granted a soul mate who would find Athos, or Athos would find him or her, and they wouldn't be parted until death. Whether or not the relationship was physical, or just a deep and abiding friendship that went beyond anything one could expect, well, Athos didn't have a preference. He'd known both types of soul mates, and couldn't say one was better than the other. Porthos and Aramis' soul bond was more of the deep and abiding friendship, but they did have their physical moments, though they had made no formal claims on each other. Athos didn't think they ever would.

Athos looked down at the soul mark high on the inside of his left forearm, near the elbow. He stared in shock. Why now, he thought, his finger coming up to trace the burgundy and gray swirls that filled in the black outline of the fleur-de-lis. The last he'd seen the mark, yesterday morning in his rooms, it had been the same as always, a black fleur-de-lis with nothing inside. But these colors... sometime in the last two days, he had met and touched his soul mate. He hadn't felt the intense rush that was said to accompany meeting one's soul mate, but the soul mark never lied. He had met his mate, and he had no idea who it was. One of the Red Guards? Someone in Chartres or Paris? That young man who was foolish enough, or so lost in his grief, he'd challenge Athos to a duel to the death over the murder of his father? Athos hadn't killed the young man's father, but given that someone was using his name, he could understand why the boy had challenged him.

Now, now there was another thing to regret with his execution in the morning. This unknown soul mate of his, male or female, would never know that Athos, formerly Olivier d'Athos, Comte de la Fère, was their soul mate, that they had touched and found each other and now lost each other. His soul mate's soul mark would go from the black outline and burgundy and gray swirls to a pale, washed out echo. No color, no anything. Just a soul mate who would never find their other half again. This was why he'd never been encouraging of soul mates in public, why Aramis and Porthos thought he didn't even have a soul mark. He didn't want to tie someone to him in that way, not with his sins, and he didn't want to look down one day and discover his mark had filled in and grayed out, his soul mate dead before he knew him or her, and no other would do for him again.

Didn't want to be the cause of that despair in another person, but now he would be.

He leaned his head against the bars of the cell. "I'm sorry," he whispered. To Aramis and Porthos, to the lad d'Artagnan, to his unknown soul mate, and to the souls of his late wife and his late brother. 

He'd failed them all.


	2. Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, who's the lucky guy or girl, d'Artagnan?"
> 
> Set just after 1.02 "Sleight of Hand"

"Oh, who's the lucky guy or girl, d'Artagnan?" Aramis asked as the younger man stripped off his shirt. After Vadim's explosion, the medic of their group had insisted on checking d'Artagnan's wounds. They were in Aramis' rooms now, as they'd been closer. Porthos and Athos were back at the garrison with Vadim's body, making their report to Captain Trèville.

"Hm?" the young Gascon asked, wincing as he moved. 

"Your soul mark," Aramis said, gesturing to d'Artagnan's left shoulder. "Nicely filled in. You've been holding out on us." He winked at the younger man as he started cleaning a nasty cut on his back. "So who's the lucky man or woman?"

D'Artagnan looked over at his shoulder, moving his arm enough to bring the fleur-de-lis into view. "I have no idea," he said. "I didn't notice it was filled in until after I came to Paris, after the business with Gaudet." He hissed as Aramis pressed the alcohol soaked cloth to a different cut. 

Aramis paused at that. "So, you have no idea who he or she is?"

"None. I thought it might have been Madame Bonacieux, but she saw it the other day, said she wished she'd been lucky to have one." He contemplated the burgundy and gray swirls. "I don't know if I'll ever find them, or if it's a him or a her." He didn't know what he would prefer, to be honest. He wasn't sure he cared, really, but ever since he'd discovered that he had, somewhere, somehow, met his soul mate, it had made it easier to manage his grief over his father. That, and the friendship of Athos, Porthos, and Aramis helped as well.

"Well, whichever way, I wish you as much joy as I've had with mine," Aramis said as he came around to clean the cut at d'Artagnan's temple where he'd been knocked unconscious by a blunt object. 

"Yours?" d'Artagnan asked, eyebrow rising.

"Mine," Aramis confirmed, pushing aside his shirt to reveal a black outlined cross, filled in with blues and greens and dark purples, over his heart. "We're not the exclusively romantic type, more of the deep friendship with some benefits. He's the one person I know gets me and all my demons, as I get his. We work," he said with a shrug. "I would give my life for him, and he for mine, should it be needed, but we would, of course, prefer to die in battle, as a Musketeer should," he added. "There, that's the last. At least none of them need stitching."

"Thank you," d'Artagnan said as he shrugged back into his shirt. "Do you regret your soul mate being male?" he asked. Aramis hesitated, and d'Artagnan understood. While soul marks were a gift from God, as said by everyone, even the Church, the fact that some soul mate pairings were same sex brought out the divisive element in people. The Church declared such pairings to be merely fraternal or otherwise, frowning on more intimate forms of expression, though it knew they happened and had to accommodate them. D'Artagnan had known several people who had soul mates of the same gender, and it had been heartbreak for some. One man in his village of Lupiac had a soul mate in Paris, a married man, who had met and fallen in love with his wife before meeting his soul mate. For some reason, the 'deep and abiding friendship and brotherhood' that was supposed to be between male soul mates had never appeared, and the man in Lupiac had always seemed so sad, like a part of him was forever missing.

"No, I don't. I don't regret it at all. He is my brother, closer than if I had had a real one, and no matter what happens in the future, we always will be. I know he's never regretted it either." Aramis re-fastened his caliver to its strap, smiling at d'Artagnan. "It helps that he is a Musketeer as well. Even if we weren't soul mates, we would have been brothers." He patted d'Artagnan on the shoulder. "If you ever want help searching for yours, let me know. There are ways."

"Thanks, Aramis," d'Artagnan said seriously. He appreciated the man's willingness to help. 

As they headed back to the garrison to make their own reports to Trèville, d'Artagnan thought about his potential soul mate. He honestly had no idea who it could be - or who he would want it to be. He'd thought on it often over the years since the mark had first appeared, since he had known that God had ordained a soul mate for him, Charles d'Artagnan of Lupiac in Gascony. Who it would be? A woman to be a wife and lover? A woman or man to be closer than a sibling, closer than anyone else?

A man to be a lover? It might cause problems, but it was also the only exception to sodomy laws in France, at least. It was still viewed as unnatural, but if the two men - or two women - were soul mates, then the Church and the law mostly looked the other way. God had deemed they were to be together, the Church said, and man could not interfere with that. That didn't mean they didn't encourage such soul mates to stay platonic, d'Artagnan thought with a twitch of his mouth. 

He considered the men and women he'd encountered since arriving in Paris. He knew it wasn't Constance, by her own words. It wasn't Aramis, obviously. Three way soul mates were extremely rare, but they all had the same soul marks, and Aramis' cross was nowhere near his own fleur-de-lis in shape or design or colors. 

Who else, he wondered. There was Porthos, or Athos, or even Captain Trèville, whom he had shaken hands with after saving Athos' life. There was also the mysterious lady from the first night at the inn, the one who had murdered her companion and framed d'Artagnan for it, leaving him the bloody dagger as a memento. The same woman who had saved him the other night in the alley. He shuddered. _God, please do not let that cold blooded lady be my soul mate_ , he silently prayed.

"D'Artagnan!" Porthos greeted him as they entered the garrison courtyard. He clapped the younger man on the shoulder, giving Aramis a bright smile. "Aramis. Our young lad all good?" 

"Nothing that a good night's sleep won't cure now, mon frère," Aramis replied, reaching up to push a lock of Porthos' hair out of his face, checking a cut at his hairline. 

"'M fine," Porthos said, pushing his hand away. 

"Humor me," Aramis said, undaunted. Porthos glanced at d'Artagnan, something worried in his eyes. D'Artagnan looked back, raising an eyebrow. 

"He knows," Aramis said lightly. "Saw his soul mark, showed him mine." He looked back at d'Artagnan. "Porthos is my soul mate."

"Congratulations," d'Artagnan said sincerely. It made sense, the way the two men were so close. And that was one person down on his list.

"Thanks," Porthos said, smiling, the worry gone from his eyes. He must have wondered if d'Artagnan would be opposed to soul mates, or two men as soul mates. "Found yours yet?"

"The mark says I have, but I have no idea who," d'Artagnan replied.

Porthos reached out and pulled the younger man into a hug. "That's a bad hand, mate. We'll help you find him, or her. Everyone should know who their soul mate is," he said, looking at Aramis. "We'll even get Athos in on it, for all that he's not exactly sold on the idea of soul mates."

Looking between the two men, d'Artagnan smiled. He knew his friends would help, and if his soul mate was someone he couldn't stand, well, he would still have his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is more coming, I'm just tweaking and proofing it....


	3. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm hardly the only Musketeer with a soul mark," he said. "Many of us have them, it doesn't interfere with our duties."
> 
> Set during 1.03 "Commodities"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, according to my closed captioning, Athos calls his wife "Anne" during their confrontation, so I'm running with that name for her here.

After Athos had somewhat recovered, they rode to the next village, not wanting to stay near the ruined Chateau de la Fère. Athos was still feeling the effects of his drinking binge, despite the adrenaline of encountering Anne, of escaping the fire. D'Artagnan was visibly weary from riding back to the house and facing the flames to save Athos, and neither of them were in any shape to camp in the fields, not with Anne out there.

"I've only got this one room. You'll have to share," the innkeeper said, looking them over. Neither of them looked their best, and definitely not like one of the King's Musketeers, and his companion, a Musketeer apprentice of sorts. 

"That's fine," Athos said. "We'll need clean water for washing," he added, pressing a few extra sous into the man's hand. The innkeeper nodded and left. Athos turned to where d'Artagnan was placing their saddlebags on the bed they would have to share. "I hope you don't mind sharing, but I did not think either of us would want to bed down in the stables."

"It's fine," d'Artagnan said. "At least we're on the way back to Paris." He pulled a shirt out of the bag. "Need to start carrying more clean shirts when we're out on business," he said idly.

"When it comes to room for shirts and room for musket balls and powder, I've found business is often better served making room for musket balls and powder. Especially in our line of work." Athos moved toward the chair in the room, removing his gloves and pauldron, then shrugging out of his jacket. It was sweat and smoke and wine stained, a victim of this God forsaken trip to arrest Emile Bonnaire. He wasn't sure Madame Bonacieux would be able to clean it, but he knew she would try if he asked. 

"Hadn't thought of that," d'Artagnan said. He had removed his own sword belt and jacket and leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair. "What will you do now?" he asked softly.

"Take a bath," Athos said wryly. "Then head back to Paris to make sure Bonnaire meets his fate with the King. We should be able to make up enough time to get into Paris just as the others do, and hopefully before the Spanish."

D'Artagnan nodded. "Considering Bonnaire is on an ass while Porthos and Aramis are on horses, I think we'll make good time," he said with a smile. 

Athos chuckled lightly. "An appropriate mount for Bonnaire."

A knock on the door stopped their conversation as the innkeeper and another man brought in a small tub and buckets of heated water. They stayed silent until the men had left. D'Artagnan gestured to the water, a small smile on his face. "After you."

Athos gave him a look, but shrugged out of his shirt by pulling it over his head. He heard a sharp inhalation of breath from his companion and lowered his arms, dropping the shirt to the floor. "What is it?" he asked, looking down at his torso, not seeing any damage from the fire or from Anne's attack.

"Your soul mark," d'Artagnan said, an odd note in his voice.

Athos looked down at the fleur-de-lis on his inner left arm. The burgundy and gray outlined by black stood out even in the dim candle light of the inn room. "I'm hardly the only Musketeer with a soul mark," he said. "Many of us have them, it doesn't interfere with our duties." He turned away to undo his trousers and get into the tub.

"I know that. I've met some. They offered to help me find mine, since I apparently met him or her without knowing it." The young Gascon sounded subdued. "If they knew they'd met me, they never said anything."

"You're assuming they knew," Athos said, picking up the rag and soap the innkeeper had provided and washing the soot and sweat off his skin. He ran the rag over his soul mark, wondering again who had its mate. "I looked down one day and discovered it was filled in. If my soul mate knew, they didn't tell me either."

Finished with his skin, he picked up one of the remaining buckets and poured the water over his head and his body, rinsing off. He stood and got out of the tub while the water was still warm, not wanting to deprive his young companion of the chance to clean up. He used the other rag to dry off a bit before redressing, giving d'Artagnan a bit of privacy. There wasn't much privacy as a soldier, especially in the field, but d'Artagnan wasn't quite a full soldier yet. He would learn, but for now, Athos could give him what little privacy there was.

"He didn't know," d'Artagnan said, as he got into the tub by the sounds. Athos frowned, turning back to the younger man. 

"What do you mean?"

"Your soul mate. He didn't know that he was yours, or you his." The man washed himself even more quickly than Athos had and rinsed himself with the last bucket. He wasn't looking at Athos, but as he got out of the tub and turned to find his shirt, Athos saw the young man's soul mark on his upper left arm. A black fleur-de-lis filled with burgundy and gray swirls, a match to Athos' own soul mark.

He stared at the mark. "D'Artagnan," he said, his voice harsh.

"I didn't know," he said, still not looking at Athos. "Though, no matter what happens, I'm glad it is you, rather than some of the others that it could have been."

"The duel, when you challenged me over your father's death," Athos realized. "When I had to force you against the post. That must be when it happened. We were too caught up in the duel to notice."

"Could have been later," d'Artagnan said, dressing.

"No. I noticed my soul mark was filled when I was in the Chatelet, after my sentencing. The only time we touched before then was during the duel." He sat down on the bed. "I thought then that I would never find my soul mate, that they would find their mark dimmed before they ever knew who held its mate."

"I would have mourned you, as Athos and as my soul mate, though I would never have realized you were both," d'Artagnan said softly. 

"I am glad to hear that," Athos said. "But since you and the others did manage to find the truth, thankfully, we have other issues to work out." He rubbed a thumb against his mark. "Like what we want from each other."

"Do we have to determine that tonight?" d'Artagnan asked. "I don't think either of us are in a place where we can talk about that. You nearly died in a house fire set by your not dead wife, we have Bonnaire to keep alive from the Spanish, and to keep alive from Porthos. I think that's enough on our minds right now. This," he said, gesturing at his arm where his soul mark was hidden, "can wait until all that is dealt with."

"If we wait until my wife is dealt with, that may not be for months," Athos said candidly, sitting on the edge of the bed. "But you are right, it can wait until at least Bonnaire is dealt with." He looked up at the younger man, seeing his nod of acceptance. At least one of them was thinking straight about this. "We should get some sleep, it's still a long ride to Paris."

"I can take the floor," d'Artagnan said.

"Why would you take the floor?" Athos looked at him, frowning. The younger man gestured to his arm again. The soul mark. "D'Artagnan, we both need sleep, and I don't think you need to sacrifice yourself simply because we discovered our matching soul marks." Athos pulled back the covers and laid down, his back to the wall. "Get in, it's too cold to sleep on the floor." He closed his eyes. Eventually, he felt the bed dip as d'Artagnan lay down, pulling the covers over both of them. Athos repressed a smile and let himself sleep.

In the morning, he woke to the unfamiliar feeling of a somewhat clear head, and of another body in his arms, a slender body tucked against his, one leg between his own, the top of someone's head tucked under his chin, and a familiar scent in the air. Not the scent of jasmine that had always accompanied Anne, though, to his relief, but the more earthy scent of d'Artagnan - horseflesh and musket powder and even faint traces of the harsh soap the inn had provided. Athos cracked open his eyes. The room was still dark, though the sky visible through the window was just lightening. Dawn was not far off. He closed his eyes again, letting himself linger between sleep and full awareness for a few moments. Waking up with d'Artagnan in his arms wasn't a surprise. Soul mates were always drawn together, no matter what the nature of the relationship was. Porthos and Aramis would cling in sleep if they were near each other, so close it was sometimes hard to tell whose limbs were whose. 

Athos felt a rush of shame as he remembered before, after Porthos had been hurt, of being so focused on trying to get out of the area, away from the memories, that he almost let Aramis' soul mate die. Aramis would rightfully never have forgiven him. Those who lost their soul mates after they'd found them were never the same, Athos knew. Especially in a case like Porthos and Aramis. The two had first met just after Aramis returned from the massacre in Savoy, his spirit shattered by the loss of his friends and brothers, by the desertion of Marsac. The soul bond between the two men had helped bring Aramis back from the brink of unforgivable things. Losing Porthos would probably have sent him back there. And it would have been Athos' fault.

But could he do this, form this bond with d'Artagnan? It would not be the same as Anne, but still, the opportunities for loss were just as great or greater in their world, as soldiers and musketeers. He'd never shown his soul mark to anyone for that reason - he knew that Porthos and Aramis would be trying to help him find his soul mate. He was still skeptical of the idea of a soul mate. It wasn't the happy ending that so many thought it would be. It was heartbreak, living without half your soul when the other person died. He'd seen it, in friends, in other Musketeers. He'd stated his feelings on it when asked. And now, well. Now he had to decide.

Not until they had finished this mission, though.

"You are thinking too loudly." 

d'Artagnan's sleep roughened voice broke into Athos' thoughts.

"I don't think I've been accused of that before," Athos said, amused.

"Well, you are." d'Artagnan hadn't moved from where he was pressed against Athos. "It's distracting me from my sleep." He sighed. "We need to get going." 

D'Artagnan pulled away, but Athos ran a hand up d'Artagnan's back to his neck, holding him in place. "We will talk about this, d'Artagnan," he said, holding the man's gaze with his own. "After this business with Bonnaire is done, we will talk about this. I promise you that."

"I will hold you to it."

He kept holding the man's gaze for another moment, surprised by the rush of feeling that went through him, the ache to just stay where they were, to not leave until this was settled. It was accompanied by an equally strong rush of desire, to strip his mate and mark him in extremely pleasurable ways until neither of them doubted who they belonged to. 

But they had a duty. Reluctantly, he let go of d'Artagnan and let the younger man get out of bed before following. 

At the door of the room, before they left, d'Artagnan turned to Athos. "I said this last night, but I will say it again. I'm glad it's you, who is my soul mate."

Athos nodded. "I feel the same."


	4. Foolishness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Far be it from me to encourage this soul mate foolishness."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set at the end of 1.03 "Commodities" 
> 
> It's a short chapter, but since the POV changes, I wanted to keep this seperate.

As Aramis and Porthos walked away, Athos turned to d'Artagnan. "If only all wrongs were so easily corrected." 

D'Artagnan gave Athos a look as the other man walked away, then turned, feeling someone watching him. There was no one there, though, so he turned back and followed after Athos. By the time he'd caught up with the older man, he and the other Musketeers were in the common room of the inn they were staying at, the innkeeper's daughter bringing over food for all four of them. The young woman smiled at d'Artagnan, but he merely gave her a nod in return as he sat down, taking the plate from her. She was pretty, but she wasn't Athos. Wasn't his mate.

Aramis frowned at d'Artagnan. "All right, what's wrong?"

D'Artagnan looked up. "What do you mean?"

"You usually smile at the pretty ones, and instead you just nodded at her. Not like you." Porthos took a sip of his wine.

"Just not in the mood tonight," d'Artagnan said with a shrug, digging into the stew. "It's been a long few days."

Aramis didn't look convinced, but he let the matter drop. They ate in silence for a bit, until Aramis and Porthos looked at each other. "So, Athos," Aramis began, causing the other man to look at him with a wary expression on his face, "Porthos and I were thinking..."

"It takes two of you to do that now?" Athos asked idly. D'Artagnan snickered at the expressions on the two soul mates' faces.

Aramis shook his head. "This is important. Young d'Artagnan here has met his soul mate, but does not know who the lucky man or woman is. Porthos and I feel that it is our duty, as friends and fellow soldiers, to help him find this person."

D'Artagnan looked down at the bowl on the table, not trusting himself to look at Athos. "I can find my soul mate on my own," he said softly. "But I appreciate the offer." 

"Nonsense," Aramis said.

"Man's got a right to know who the other half of his soul is," Porthos added. "Doesn't he, Athos." The look Porthos gave the elder Musketeer was challenging. D'Artagnan looked back at Athos, wondering what he would say. They hadn't discussed telling anyone else yet. 

"I rather think that's up to d'Artagnan if he wants to know, and if he wants anyone to help," Athos said, looking into his wine glass. "Far be it from me to encourage this soul mate foolishness." Athos took a sip of his wine, and d'Artagnan felt something cold clench around his heart.

"Told you he wasn't big on soul mates," Aramis said. D'Artagnan nodded weakly, not daring to look at Athos now at all, having heard his own soul mate call their bond foolishness. He'd promised they would talk, yet he didn't believe in this?

"I don't think I'm really in a position to be hunting for some random person in Paris," d'Artagnan said. "Maybe when I'm more settled." He finished the last of his stew in a hurry and stood, tossing a few coins on the table. "I'm heading for bed. Next bottle's on me." He left, not looking back at Athos, yet feeling the stares of all three men on his back.


	5. Dancing around the Issue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "In our line of work we can't afford to dance around the issue. The next mission might be the last one either of us goes on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Directly follows the last chapter, still set at the end of 1.03 "Commodities".

"You had to call his soul bond foolishness, didn't you?" Porthos growled at Athos. "Lad's got a mark that he doesn't even know who it belongs to, and you're calling it silly."

Athos stared at the coins on the table. "You all know my position. It's not changing just because it's d'Artagnan we're discussing." Though it had, if he were being honest with himself. His position had changed because of d'Artagnan, because they shared the same soul, the same soul mark.

"Just because you don't have a mark is no reason to spoil the joy of those who do," Aramis said, standing up. "Come on, Porthos."

The two men left him, and Athos didn't watch, instead he poured himself another glass of wine and kept staring at the coins. 

He'd wanted to wait until they got back to Paris, back on familiar ground, before discussing their bond. It was easier to contemplate having the discussion in the silence of his rooms, or even in the garrison courtyard, surrounded by the clashes of swords in training matches that would hide their conversation. But now, it appeared they needed to discuss this here, in Le Havre. He signaled to the innkeeper's daughter and scooped up the coins, paying for a bottle of wine and making his way upstairs to the room that he and d'Artagnan were supposed to share. He wouldn't be surprised if Porthos and Aramis were there to console d'Artagnan, kicking Athos out into the room that was supposed to be used by the other two, or if d'Artagnan were in their rooms, leaving Athos alone for the night. 

To his surprise, d'Artagnan was alone in their room, sitting in the one chair in front of the fireplace, staring into it. He didn't move when Athos shut the door or when Athos came over to sit on the bed. He did reach out without looking and take the wine bottle that Athos offered, taking a sip before handing it back. "Do you really think our soul bond is foolishness?"

Athos sighed. "I have seen men and women do very foolish things in the name of finding their soul mates, or in protecting their mates, or in their daily lives because of their soul mates. I have seen friends reduced to shells because their soul mates died. I went years with my own soul mark blank, mocking me even as I fell in love with and married my wife, knowing that though I loved her passionately, she was not the other half of my soul. That someone else out there could have a claim on me, try to take me from her."

"I would never--" D'Artagnan didn't look at Athos, but his hand clenched at his side.

He held up a hand. "I know that you would not, d'Artagnan, for you are honorable. But at the time, I did not know who my mate was, male or female. They were an abstract concept, their honor unknown. And afterward..." he trailed off for a moment. "Well, afterward I was soured on everything, including love and soul mates, and did not hesitate to make my feelings known. I never revealed to anyone that I had a soul mark. Porthos and Aramis don't know about it, Trèville doesn't know about it. The only person who knows is Anne. My wife," he added when d'Artagnan looked confused. "And I could not change what I have always said about soul bonds without Porthos and Aramis becoming suspicious. Not when you and I haven't discussed our bond yet, what it will mean for us, and who, if anyone, we tell. I did not want to make such a decision without your knowledge." He took a sip of the wine.

"Do you not want to tell anyone?" d'Artagnan asked softly.

"I guess that depends on the nature of our relationship. No matter what, Trèville will have to know. In case something were to happen to either of us, he needs to know that the other would likely react ... badly." 

D'Artagnan reached out for the wine bottle, and Athos handed it over. "I think we're already bound a bit more closely than some," the man said, taking a sip. "After we left the chateau, I knew I had to go back. It got to the point where I couldn't go another step towards Paris. I think Aramis and Porthos thought I was nuts, but they let me go." He took a longer drink. "I just knew if I didn't go back, you wouldn't make it."

Athos sighed. "I've had the same feeling with you. I knew the plan to use you to catch Vadim could not end well, I just couldn't explain to anyone how I knew. It's why I went to check on you in the Chatelet. Why I wanted you to get out." He reached over and took the bottle back. "And then Vadim almost killed you. And we never would have known we are to each other, beyond friends."

"If I recall, your first words weren't exactly warm once we met up again."

Athos gave him a small smile. _So, you are alive,_ he'd said. "I never claimed to be a very emotional man. But I was relieved that you were alive, and not blown up by Vadim's plan."

"Fate apparently wanted us to know we were soul mates," d'Artagnan said with a sardonic smile. "But are we to be brothers, or lovers, is the question."

"You certainly don't dance around the issue."

For the first time in the conversation, the younger man turned to look fully at Athos. "In our line of work, both of us soldiers, you a King's Musketeer, we can't afford to dance around the issue. The next mission might be the last one either of us goes on."

There was truth to d'Artagnan's words, Athos admitted in his mind. In their short acquaintance, each had almost died on numerous occasions. He looked up as the chair scraped against the floor, and d'Artagnan came to sit next to Athos on the bed.

"I can't... the idea of just being your brother doesn't sit well with me, Athos. I could barely look at the serving girl tonight, because she wasn't you." He looked down. "I couldn't say this before, but the idea that your wife is alive and might have a claim on you despite what she's done makes me want to get possessive of you."

Athos quirked an eyebrow. "I thought you would never interfere?"

"If you were truly happy with her, I wouldn't care, but my soul is telling me she's not worthy of you." D'Artagnan leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Athos'. "Can you honestly tell me that you can be happy seeing me with someone else?"

Athos closed his eyes, leaning into d'Artagnan. "No," he said softly. "I could not." He looked up into the young Gascon's eyes, into his soul mate's eyes, and saw reflected there what he felt. This would be no chaste 'deep and abiding fraternal friendship'. This would be physical and passionate and all-consuming between them, but Athos did not fear it. Not anymore. Giving into his instincts, he tilted his head and took d'Artagnan's lips in a kiss. It started chaste, just a taste of his soul mate. But then d'Artagnan kissed him back, and it was a spark to powder, igniting them both, hands and mouths unable to get enough, tugging and pushing until they parted to strip, coming back together on the bed in a need to be as close as possible, closer if they could, until they'd spent themselves on the other's skin, their souls rejoicing in their joining.

Eventually, Athos rolled onto his back, reaching out for d'Artagnan, who willingly moved to rest his head on his soul mate's chest. They were sticky and would need to clean up, but neither wanted to move that far away from each other at this point. Athos turned to press a kiss into d'Artagnan's hair. "I suspect that Aramis and Porthos will never let me live this down," he murmured.

"Never," d'Artagnan agreed with a content sigh. He reached across Athos' chest to run a thumb over the older man's soul mark. "Not that their teasing should stop us from doing this as often as we can."

"Oh, I'm not suggesting it should," Athos said. "But it may be difficult, with you living at the Bonacieux's."

"I've seen your lodgings, they're not exactly fit for two people."

"We'll find some place that doesn't mind male soul mates."

"After we get back to Paris." D'Artagnan smiled into Athos chest. "And maybe do this once more before dawn."

"Only once? You farm boys, no stamina," Athos said teasingly, sliding his hand down to stroke his soul mate's hip. "I'm thinking at least twice, if not more."

"That sounds like a challenge," the younger man said with a grin.

"A promise," Athos said, pulling his lover up for a kiss, and neither said much after that.


	6. Admissions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Wait, but, if you've got a soul mark, then why are you so set against soul mates?" Porthos asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after 1.03 "Commodities". After this chapter, I suspect the story will start to heavily diverge from canon, more so than it is now.

"So," Aramis said, after they'd been riding for a while. D'Artagnan looked over at him, eyebrow raised. "Your soul mate."

D'Artagnan groaned. "Can we just leave it?" he asked. "I told you Athos apologized for his remark, and I'm not at the point where I need help to find my soul mate."

"But you don't know who he or she is!" Aramis exclaimed.

"Are you sure he doesn't?" Athos asked from behind them, where he was riding next to Porthos. "He could have met him or her since you last talked, and he's just trying to be polite about it."

Aramis turned in the saddle to look at Athos. "You are no help," he said. "Just because you don't have a soul mark--"

"Who says I don't?" Athos asked with a quirked eyebrow. "You've never asked if I do or not."

Porthos and Aramis both blinked at him. "Wait, but, if you've got a soul mark, then why are you so set against soul mates?" Porthos asked.

Aramis looked like he was going to say something, then shut his mouth, but d'Artagnan could see the wheels turning, Aramis thinking that the 'woman who died' in Athos' past must have been his soul mate.

"Because I had seen too much foolishness on the part of soul mates, too many people hurt because they were happy in life and then their soul mate came along, taking them from that happy life. I didn't want to be that person to my soul mate, and I never wanted that to happen to me." He looked up. "You two were lucky, finding each other when not involved with someone else, having the bond be one of brotherhood." Athos shrugged. "I didn't want any part of Aramis' schemes to help people find their soul mates either."

"Now that he knows, you know that won't stop him," Porthos said with a laugh. "He'll be looking for both of your soul mates."

Athos looked at d'Artagnan, who gave him a nod back. They'd discussed this the night before, in between bouts of lovemaking. If the topic came up, they would admit to being soul mates. If not, they would tell Aramis and Porthos at the garrison, before telling Trèville. It would be only right that their friends should know first. 

"I've already found mine," Athos said. "We're still . . . working things out."

"You've found yours, and yet you called it foolish last night when we brought up d'Artagnan looking for his?" Aramis asked.

"That's part of what we're working out," d'Artagnan said, cutting off whatever Porthos was about to add. 

The effect on the other two musketeers was comical. They both looked stunned, eyes going from Athos to d'Artagnan and back, mouths hung open. Athos took advantage of their silence to urge his horse forward, so he was next to d'Artagnan where they had stopped on the road. Athos reached out and d'Artagnan quickly took his hand, squeezing it before letting it go. He'd been wanting to do that since they'd left the room that morning, the need to touch his soul mate almost overwhelming. One night skin to skin with Athos and he was craving more. Hopefully, they could get this out of their system soon, it would be distracting in the field. 

Until then, at least now that Aramis and Porthos knew, they could indulge in chaste touches on the way back to Paris.

"You and Athos?" Porthos asked at the same time that Aramis was asking "You and d'Artagnan?"

"Yes, Athos is my soul mate," d'Artagnan replied. "Why do you think I was so upset with him last night?"

"I am truly sorry for that," Athos murmured, reaching out again.

"I know," d'Artagnan said, taking his hand.

"Oh, they're soul mates all right. Worse than you and I are," Porthos said. "They can't keep their hands off each other. Bet you anything they weren't just talking last night." He grinned at them. "Not a chaste abiding brotherhood for you two, eh?"

"You and Aramis are hardly chaste," Athos pointed out.

"True, but you two," he shook his head. "Something tells me you will be the kind of soul mates the Church likes to pretend don't exist."

"When did you find out?" Aramis asked, not letting them answer. "D'Artagnan didn't know after Vadim, and that wasn't all that long go."

"After d'Artagnan came back for me, when you and Porthos took Bonnaire to Paris," Athos replied. "It's very, very new. And unexpected."

Before Aramis could respond, Porthos started laughing. "Oh, that's perfect. Let me guess, the duel, that's when you first touched, when your marks filled in?"

Athos nodded.

"No wonder you're all passionate, if your first touch was in the middle of a duel, all that emotion at the moment of finding each other." He shook his head and looked at Aramis. "Maybe I should have fought you instead of shaking your hand."

"Trèville would have frowned on you fighting on your first day," Aramis replied.

"Eh, good point."

"Gentlemen, we do need to return to Paris and inform Captain Trèville of the unfortunate kidnapping of Emile Bonnaire by the Spanish," Athos said with a small smile. He let go of d'Artagnan's hand and started back down the road to Paris. D'Artagnan followed his soul mate, not looking back at the other mated pair.

They'd gone a quarter mile down the road before the other two caught up. "So, will we want to be around when you tell Trèville?"

"Probably not," Athos said. "Unless you want him using you two as an example of what soul mate Musketeers should not be."

"We are fine upstanding members of the regiment," Aramis said, hand over his heart in offense. 

"A certain incident in the training yard at midnight not withstanding?"

Both Aramis and Porthos coughed. 

"Yeah, well, no one was supposed to be there but us." Porthos looked chagrined.

"Do I want to know?" d'Artagnan asked.

"Trèville caught them in the yard in one of their more... intimate moments. He was not happy." Athos gave d'Artagnan a look. "We will not be imitating their example."

"I think I can live without that."

"Just you wait, you will be caught in some embarrassing position, mark my words," Aramis said. "And we will laugh."

D'Artagnan shrugged. It was likely, given the way he wanted to drag Athos off into the woods and stay there until they were finally sated, but he didn't have to agree with Aramis. From the look Athos was giving him, though, the older man felt the same way.

The rest of trip back was completed in easy time, with their usual banter and talk of matters of interest. After reporting to Trèville, Athos and d'Artagnan stayed behind once they'd been dismissed.

The captain looked at them, an eyebrow raised. "Something else to say that couldn't be said in front of Porthos and Aramis?"

Athos nodded. "It is of a more personal nature, sir."

Trèville sat back in his chair. "A personal nature? Involving the two of you?"

"Yes, sir," d'Artagnan said.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm going to regret asking what this personal matter is?" the captain said to the ceiling. He looked back at them. "Well?"

"During the mission, d'Artagnan and I discovered that we are each other's soul mates." Athos voice was calm, but his instincts betrayed him, his hand reaching out for d'Artagnan's. The younger man took it without thought, squeezing reassuringly. 

Trèville looked at Athos, then d'Artagnan, then down at their joined hands. "Let me guess," he said, "you're going to be the kind of soul mates that give me gray hairs by hating to be apart from one another and getting into trouble because of it."

"Hopefully not, sir," d'Artagnan said.

"But as the bond is still new, we can't promise anything," Athos added.

Running a hand over his face, Trèville stood. "Well, no matter what, congratulations. I think the regiment was convinced that Athos didn't have a soul mark, but I'm glad to see that theory proven wrong. Don't get into any compromising positions where the Red Guards can find you, you know how the Cardinal is." He put his fists on the desk and leaned forward. "And don't imitate Porthos and Aramis."

"Of course not, sir," d'Artagnan said.

Trèville gave him a look, then shook his head. "If you decide you're going to try for lodgings together, I know of a few places that don't turn down male soul mates. I doubt Bonacieux will be accepting. I don't know about Athos' landlord."

Athos nodded. "We'll keep that in mind, sir."

"Good. Now go, and don't come back until Thursday, get this out of your system," Trèville ordered with a careless wave of his hand at their joined hands. "If we need you, we'll send word." His demeanor belied the affection in his eyes for the two men before him, and d'Artagnan and Athos bowed their heads in respect before leaving the office.

"Well?" Aramis asked as they descended the stairs from Trèville's office.

"The captain has been informed, and we have been given leave." Athos smiled at their friends before turning to his soul mate. "Shall we?"

"After you," d'Artagnan said with a gesture. 

"Don't do anything we wouldn't do," Aramis called after them, amusement in his voice.

"That doesn't leave out much," d'Artagnan called back, enjoying the laughter that emanated from the men behind them, and his mate next to him.

"Is there anything Aramis wouldn't do?" Athos asked.

"The Cardinal," d'Artagnan said firmly. 

His mate stopped and stared at him. "I did not need that image in my mind."

"Well, when we get to your quarters, I'll endeavor to get it out of your mind?" He looked at his mate and deliberately licked his lips.

Athos nodded. "I will hold you to that."

"Hopefully, you'll hold me to many things, and against many things, upon many things..." he trailed off with a smirk.

"If you don't stop that, we won't make it to my quarters before I do something here in the street, and I don't think we want to disappoint Trèville by causing scandal in less time than Aramis and Porthos." Athos resumed walking. 

D'Artagnan hurried to catch up. "They'd never let us forget it, either."

"Exactly."

They were silent until the door to Athos' rooms closed behind them. Then, the silence was broken by gasps and moans and the rustle of fabric, the sound of steel hitting the floor as they divested each other of any layer that prevented them from touching their soul mate. The legs of the bed squeaked across the stone floor with the force of two men falling upon it, and the noises escalated in a crescendo of pleasure as they spent themselves.

"Not sure this will be out of our systems by Thursday," d'Artagnan finally said when he had caught his breath. 

Athos chuckled against his mate's shoulder before rolling them to lie on their sides, facing each other. "With luck, the worst should be, but I doubt I will ever not want to be touching you."

"Mm." D'Artagnan kissed Athos. "I don't think I will be complaining about that." 

"Only if we are caught?"

"I'm sure we can find a way to blame it on Porthos and Aramis," d'Artagnan replied with a smirk before kissing his mate and putting any thoughts of anything but each other out of their minds for some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing the next chapter already, but don't know when it will be done, and I might not have access to the internet for a few days to be able to post it whenever it is done.


	7. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Apparently, I find it hard to continue sleeping without you in the bed," Athos replied, moving to put a hand on d'Artagnan's arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes, canon is being tossed out the window. I should add that I've only seen up to "A Rebellious Woman" at this point, though I know somewhat of what happens in the remaining episodes. I may work canon in when I can, but I'm not trying to be faithful to it totally.

Athos woke to find the bed empty of his mate. He raised his head and looked around the room, noticing that d'Artagnan's clothing, boots, and weaponry were gone. Athos frowned, sitting up and gathering up his own clothing to dress. 

It was Tuesday morning, they'd been on leave since Sunday, and had today and tomorrow before returning to duty on Thursday. There was no need of either of them to go anywhere unless they wanted food, and even then, they generally only went out for dinner in the middle of the day, getting enough to bring back for a light supper later. But that would be hours from now, so where was d'Artagnan?

As he fastened his sword belt around his waist, he heard footsteps on the stairs. Athos looked up as the door to his rooms opened and d'Artagnan walked in, several bags in hand. He gave Athos a weary smile. "Sorry, I'd hoped to be back before you woke up." He set the bags by the door.

"Apparently, I find it hard to continue sleeping without you in the bed," Athos replied, moving to put a hand on d'Artagnan's arm. "Where were you?"

"Bonacieux's. I got up in the middle of the night and found a note had been slipped under the door from Aramis. Constance had asked him to deliver a message. Somehow, Monsieur Bonacieux discovered that I had a filled soul mark, and wanted me out of his house by the end of the day. I went over there to leave my rent money for the rest of the month and gather my things." He leaned his head against Athos' shoulder. "He wasn't there, but according to Constance, he was unhappy about having such an 'unnatural young man' as a boarder. Bonacieux doesn't like the idea of soul mates at all, and refuses to have anyone with a soul mark in his house. I didn't want to make things harder for Constance, so I settled my account, took my belongings, and came home."

Athos turned and pressed a kiss to d'Artagnan's head, absently noting that the younger man referred to Athos' lodgings as 'home'. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I know Constance was a friend."

"To you, too."

"Yes, but you and she were closer."

D'Artagnan didn't respond, but turned into Athos's arms. "If I didn't have you, if she weren't married. . . I could have loved her, I think." He pressed his forehead to Athos' neck. "Probably not what you wanted to hear."

Athos smiled softly. "If our lives had been different, if we weren't soul mates, who knows what would have happened. You might have loved her." He moved backward, drawing d'Artagnan with him until they were both sitting on the bed. "But in this life, at least, we have each other."

"We do," d'Artagnan said with a smile. He reached up and started to undo Athos' jacket. "Sorry to make you put clothes on for no reason," he said.

"I don't think having you undo them is no reason," Athos said with a small smile, one that faded as d'Artagnan drew out the locket from the chain around Athos' neck. His mate had never asked about it, never looked inside. Athos had been grateful, at first, but now. . . "This was a reminder," he said softly. "Of what I'd lost, when Anne killed Thomas, when I had to execute her." He reached up and opened it, revealing the pressed forget-me-not. "It was supposed to be a memory of a perfect day," he said in the same soft voice. "Instead it became a reminder of the fool I was."

"That would explain why I saw you often staring at it when you were drinking heavily," d'Artagnan said. "Something you haven't done in the past few days."

Athos removed the locket from his neck and held it in his hand for a long moment before placing it on the small table next to the bed. "No, I haven't," he said, turning back to his mate and leaning in for a long, lingering kiss. "I drank to forget, to keep my ghosts at bay, to punish myself for what I had to do." He cupped his hands around d'Artagnan's neck, thumbs stroking his cheeks. "You protect me from my ghosts far better than any brandy or wine."

D'Artagnan leaned into the touch. "I do my best to try. It's what soul mates do for each other. At least according to Aramis."

"He would know, Porthos protects him from his ghosts, and vice versa. Not that I feel you have ghosts for me to protect you from."

His mate looked away. "I have ghosts," he said softly. "Killing Gaudet exorcised much of my guilt over my father's death, but I still have nightmares about it. Fewer since Sunday," he said with a small smile, still not looking at Athos. "The other ghost I fear could take me away from you."

"What ghost is that?" Athos asked, concerned.

Haltingly, looking down, d'Artagnan spoke of his first night in Paris, staying at a less than reputable inn, of the Spaniard and his companion, and of how the lady had killed the Spaniard and framed d'Artagnan for it, leaving the bloody dagger in the pillow on his bed. Athos growled at that, displeased by this female assassin. That caused d'Artagnan to chuckle.

"In a way, being chased was a blessing, it's how I met Constance. I hid from the ones chasing me by kissing her. Then collapsed from my injuries and she took me in," he added with a wry smile. "Right after that, I went and challenged you and the rest is fate." 

Athos kissed d'Artagnan. "A very pleasurable fate, now." He sighed. "I don't like the idea of this woman out there who could try to turn you into the Cardinal for murder."

"I don't know what she's doing. I saw her again, during the Vadim mission. She was the one who killed the Red Guards that were chasing me. She told me I was at a cross roads, to make sure I chose the right path. That choosing the Musketeers meant oblivion." He frowned. "Constance told me a lady came to see me while we were escorting Bonnaire back to Paris. Her description was of the same woman, only she called herself Milady de Winter. She scared Constance."

"I've not found Madame Bonacieux to be one that scares easily. This woman must be formidable. Do you know anything else about her?" Perhaps if they could identify her, and neutralize her, d'Artagnan would be safe.

"Only that she wore a choker the entire time. She had scars on her neck, like from a hanging..." d'Artagnan looked up, face stricken. "She said the man she loved had tried to kill her. I offered to kill him for her."

Athos stared at his mate. "What exactly did she look like?" he asked harshly, holding his breath against the fear that d'Artagnan's Milady de Winter could be....

When d'Artagnan finished describing her, Athos closed his eyes, wondering why the universe hated him. "Anne," he said softly. "Your Milady de Winter is my Anne. And the man you offered to kill for her ... is me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I am working on the next chapter...


	8. Reassurances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "God, between her and Gaudet, it's like the universe was trying to get me to kill my soul mate."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Directly follows the previous chapter.
> 
> Again, canon is out the window now.

D'Artagnan swallowed heavily.  "I ... I didn't know ... I swear, Athos..."  Oh God, he'd slept with Athos' wife.   His soul mate's wife.  What would the man think--

Athos pressed a fierce kiss to d'Artagnan's lips.  "I know, there was no way you could have known," he said, leaning his forehead against d'Artagnan's.  The younger man felt something ease in his chest at the contact.  "She is a master at manipulation.  She must have thought you were an easy mark, someone to dispose of once her foul deeds were done."

"She seemed very interested in my soul mark," d'Artagnan said, recalling her tracing around it with a fingernail, an odd look in her eyes.  He'd put it down to the usual curiosity about an unfilled soul mark, but what if she'd suspected he was Athos' soul mate?  Might she have thought that framing him for murder, causing his death, would cause Athos pain?  "Said I should be careful about trying to find a soul mate, with a mark like a criminal.  I wonder if she suspected, that you were my mate.  That's why she easily accepted my offer to kill you for her.  And why she so easily framed me for murder."

"Possible, though we can't be the only mated pair with the fleur-de-lis as a soul mark.  I know Porthos and Aramis aren't the only ones with a cross as a soul mark, though the colors are obviously different for the other pair."

"Still."  D'Artagnan shook his head.  "She must have been the one who left the forget-me-nots on my bed, after the Vadim mess.  Trying to win me to her side still?  Expecting me to kill you to stay in her favor?"  He swallowed against the bile that suddenly rose in his throat.  "God, between her and Gaudet, it's like the universe was trying to get me to kill my soul mate."

"But you didn't, and I am hopeful that you won't in the future," Athos said, pulling d'Artagnan into a tight embrace.  "We will find a way to deal with Anne.  She can't be working alone."

"No, not with her comment about having a powerful patron."  He nuzzled at Athos' throat, and  then paused as a thought occurred to him.  "What does it say about me that I've slept with both you and your wife?" 

Athos was silent for a long moment, and d'Artagnan looked up to see an amused look on his mate's face.  "Well," he said slowly, "if you think about it, I've slept with both her and you.  She's slept with both of us.  A rather . . . interesting set of circumstances between the three of us."

"True, but you and she were married."

"And you and I are soul mates, so our affair is somewhat sanctioned by the Church, under the priority of soul mates.  We just can't formally bond in the Church at the moment."  

"Not unless they grant you an annulment on the grounds of finding your soul mate, or something happens to her," d'Artagnan said bitterly.

"Do you really want to formally bond?"

"I don't know, I just . . . I don't like having her out there, not knowing what she's planning.  She hates you, that's obvious, and I think she's trying to recruit me for something, or someone - probably the powerful patron."

"Well, she can't have you," Athos said with a growl in his voice.  "If you think she's not worthy of me, I _know_ she's not worthy of you."

"No," d'Artagnan agreed.  "But _you_ are worthy of me," he said, pushing Athos down onto the bed and kissing him.  "And I feel it is my duty to prove it to you."

"Your duty, hm?" Athos asked, stripping d'Artagnan of his shirt between kisses.  

"My duty and my pleasure."  And that was the last coherent sentence either man said for a long time.


	9. Sparring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I trust you two have gotten it mostly out of your system?" Trèville asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems like this story wants to follow the episodes as much as possible, so have an interlude while I work on the Athos and d'Artagnan side of "The Good Soldier". Porthos and Aramis' side is up as "Until the End of Time", the second story in this series.

Athos stopped in his morning routine as d'Artagnan made an appreciative noise. Athos turned to find his mate still on the bed, eyes on Athos' body.

"You're dressed," d'Artagnan said with a frown.

"It's Thursday," Athos said, amused. "We do need to report in today." He wasn't sure he wanted to, he didn't feel they'd had enough time together. Especially as they had lost a few hours speaking with Athos' landlord yesterday, who wasn't as narrow minded on soul mates as Bonacieux. He'd been happy to rent out a small, windowless room to d'Artagnan as a cover, if needed, and help get a larger bed into Athos' room, for a modest increase in rent. Athos didn't argue with the man. The rent wasn't anything they couldn't both cover, and it let them stay together. Additionally, they could use d'Artagnan's room as storage if needed, as it was next to Athos' room. Their room.

"Hm. I'd hoped for at least distracting you somewhat." D'Artagnan got out of bed and stretched. Athos paused and watched appreciatively. The urgent need of the past few days had subsided; he could now appreciate his mate's body while not needing to push him back on the bed and drive them both senseless with pleasure. But that didn't mean he didn't enjoy the view, or want to touch. He always wanted to touch, even if it was a casual touch.

"Trèville is expecting us," Athos said mildly. "And I don't know that we want to give Aramis and Porthos fodder to tease us with, either." He went back to his routine of dressing and checking the movement of his clothes, making sure nothing would prevent him from making any move possible if he had to fight.

"No, we wouldn't want to do that." D'Artagnan began dressing and checking his own movements. They prepared in silence, with the occasional bit of sparring, smiles exchanged over steel.

Athos settled his hat on his hair and looked at his lover. "Shall we go?"

D'Artagnan came over, leaning in to kiss Athos lightly. "Now we can."

* * *

"I trust you two have gotten it mostly out of your system?" Trèville asked once formation was done and he'd called them into his office.

"Mostly, sir, yes," Athos replied. He refrained from reaching out to touch his mate, barely. D'Artagnan had clasped his hands behind his back to keep them under control.

Trèville eyed them, then shook his head. "If this interferes with your duty, you will suffer the consequences, as any Musketeer would. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," they both answered in unison.

"Good. We have an assignment. The Duke of Savoy and his family are arriving tomorrow, and we're to be there to represent the Musketeers, and protect the king and queen. Until then, training. Dismissed."

They nodded and left. "Why would he want me on the detail, I'm not a Musketeer?" d'Artagnan asked.

"You really think he's going to separate us now?" Athos replied as they made their way down the stairs. "Besides, Trèville knows the best way for you to earn your commission is to be noticed by the king. Which means assignments at the palace." He stopped at the bottom of the steps and turned to his mate. "But don't think that I'll let up on your training just because you are my mate."

"I'd be disappointed if you did," d'Artagnan said with a smile. He walked down the last few steps and leaned up to whisper in Athos' ear. "I'll just look forward to you making it up to me later."

Athos fought the shiver that went up his spine at d'Artagnan's tone. "Only if you are good," he murmured.

"And if I'm bad?" 

Athos smiled. "Then you'll be making it up to me." 

The shiver that did run through his mate made Athos smile more. Any response was cut off by Aramis calling out, "Save that for later, we have training to do."

"Like you and Porthos were any better," Athos said, winking at his mate and turning to their friends.

"Not saying we were, but now we're talking about you," Aramis said with a smile.

"Payback," Porthos added with a grin from where he stood next to his mate.

Athos looked at his two friends, both with their swords in their hands, then turned to his mate. "Think we can take them?" he asked, drawing his sword.

"Absolutely," d'Artagnan replied, drawing his.

"Challenge accepted," Porthos said with a grin.

"Loser buys supper," Aramis added.

The four friends grinned at each other, and the spar was on.

* * *

Aramis grumbled all night about having to buy supper.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from D.H. Lawrence's "Restlessness"


End file.
